


Authentic Tears

by clovenhooves



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, Gen, Irken Dib (Invader Zim), Role Reversal, twenty minutes to doom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-10-20 07:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20671745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clovenhooves/pseuds/clovenhooves
Summary: It struck Membrane as fitting that humanity would come to an end as unceremonious and undeserved as its genesis. It all happened so fast. And yet, as he sat in the sterile cell with his back to the wall, legs sprawled out and limp in front of him, nothing else existing in this space other than the empty air, the time since “the end” seemed to have been drawn out into infinity.It wasn’t supposed to be like this.





	1. Hope

It struck Membrane as fitting that humanity would come to an end as unceremonious and undeserved as its genesis. It all happened so fast. And yet, as he sat in the sterile cell with his back to the wall, legs sprawled out and limp in front of him, nothing else existing in this space other than the empty air, the time since “the end” seemed to have been drawn out into infinity.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

His son was supposed to save the human race. By his side, they would have been unstoppable. Against him, he was unrecognizable. Even before he changed for the worst it felt at times that he was actively trying to antagonize his father with his outlandish beliefs. As though he were making a mockery of the man's entire career. Membrane knew, however, that this was a phase. A childish flight of fancy that would fizzle out and fade into the same feverish spark for _real _science that permeated his entire being.

And in a sense…it appeared that this was the case.

This cell. This ship. The-

“Professor.”

Membrane looked up.

His son towered above him from outside the bars. He beheld the pale horse, the harbinger of doom that the irken invader formerly known as Dib Membrane now represented in galaxies near and far. He beheld his homemade uniform - the segmented blue tunic that outlined his lanky body into mean, sharp angles, the shiny thick-soled boots, the tattered black cape that hung limp from his back. The cape that Membrane knew, instantly, to be a shoddily modified trench coat. The same trench coat he could see so clearly in his mind’s eye billowing behind his son, age twelve, as he ran down the stairs hot on the trail of some new inane scheme.

Most of all he beheld the “spider legs” – the crude term for whatever monstrous creation sprang forth from Dib’s spine, sharply angled insectoid limbs made of metal and god knows what else that propped up the boy a couple of feet into the air. Four in total, sharp and threatening. An awful clattering sound, like a fork scraping against a plate, screeched through the air as they scuttled a few inches back and forth to maintain Dib’s balance.

“It’s time for your feeding.”

Two meals a day. Both an unidentifiable nutrient paste, delivered on a tray and slid between the space between the bars, sometimes accompanied by a spoon when Dib was feeling particularly generous. It tasted like nothing, but it kept him alive. Membrane hadn’t gotten to the point where he had considered a hunger strike, but eyeing the spider legs and their inhuman angularity, the fear of what could happen to him if he attempted so chased off the possibility.

A drone of some sort buzzed past Dib’s shoulder and flew in front of the bars. A metal arm protruded from an opening on its front, and with a _zap_ the morning tray (he supposed it was morning at least. It wasn’t like he could tell day from night anymore, when all that was visible from the windows was the empty vacuum of space) materialized in its hand. The drone paused, turned the tray slightly so it would fit between the bars, and threw it violently into the cell with a harsh crash.

Membrane stared blankly at the space where Dib’s eyes would be, if not obscured by dark blue goggles. He’d never seen him without those goggles. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Dib lowered himself from the spider legs until he was level with the ground. An obvious powerplay. Despite his new form, the boy had continued to grow until he was as tall as his father as the years dragged on. A pang of sadness tightened in Membrane’s chest as this dawned on him. Dib was so…_small_ when this all began. Age thirteen, still big-eyed and big-headed and obsessed with childish fantasy…and seemingly overnight, he had changed into a raving lunatic, cackling on the top of Membrane’s lab as he sent the human race marching to its doom. Transported to an alien ship millions of miles away. He had no idea what became of them. The majority, as far as he knew, were imprisoned on a myriad of distant and cold planets. Some were sent for dissection, experimentation. Some were fed to horrors lurking, massive, in the void of space.

And out of all this, it had been Membrane, out of the seven billion humans sent far, far from their enslaver, who was given the special privilege of having a front row seat to the invader’s conquests. Out of every individual person, he was the one sitting here in this cramped solitary cell, cloistered away in the bowels of Dib’s ship.

Dib let out a frustrated noise, jolting Membrane out of his thoughts.

“Professor. I’d like to keep my specimen in good condition.”

This voice…this horrible monotone, shaking like a barely restrained explosion. It wasn’t his son. This had a jittery quality to it. It made him anxious. It felt like one of those high frequencies used for subliminal messaging. Innocuous, but tinged with a stomach-churning feeling of unease_._

And this _face_ – this bald green head sprouting off into long curved antennae, it was so _wrong_-

“Are you ignoring your supreme ruler, Professor?!” Dib snapped, and the spider legs unfurled, hovering by his sides like two extra sets of raised arms. “Do you think this is a joke? Do you think it’s _funny? _I’m your overlord and you are going to _obey _me!” This wasn’t his son, and strangely, it _was_ all the time. The energy, the manic shouting, the emotion in his voice quavering off into something that if Membrane closed his eyes crossed into a distorted but recognizable rendition of the voice he could almost hear shouting about the Mothman. 

Membrane reached over, stretching his long arms so he didn’t have to get up, and grasped the fallen tray. He pulled it into his lap. Dib was still staring at him, gaze impenetrable behind the glass. He flashed a sharp pink smile. “That’s it. Goooood human. Now…go gobble up your slop so I can return to my work.” Membrane looked down. He had not been provided a spoon this time.

***

The first time Dib breaks his heart comes not during a “feeding” but during a check-in.

Dib liked to study his specimens. He loved to take whatever poor being he had in his grasp and poke it, prod it, all the while furiously taking notes in some sort of electronic pink tablet device. He’d shown Membrane examples from other creatures he’d examined before. Dib was a conqueror, after all. Planetary domination entailed the dehumanization (if that were the word to use) of its native inhabitants.

There would be times where Dib would sit by Membrane’s cell and tap on the pink device until a three-dimensional hologram of the creature appeared above it, rotating slowly to showcase all sides. He’d explain in detail what this creature was. What kind of world it lived in, what civilization it built. Membrane was almost content during these times. Something about it felt very…normal. As though he were back in his kitchen, listening to Dib prattle on about the Nevada Treesquatch or whatever the monster of the week happened to be.

Dib even showed him what these creatures looked like on the inside.

Membrane quickly picked up on the face that Dib was a butcher. Nothing seemed to make him happier than to have these other aliens on his autopsy table after he’d extracted all the use he could get from their living selves.

Dib once recounted in detail how he rearranged the organs of a Kerebian cat-beast with nothing but a scalpel and a team of Vortian prison workers. Membrane watched as his son spoke about the experience, rapt with the memory. He spoke with his hands, or whatever limb remained under those dark gloves.

Dib dressed as a mad scientist for Halloween when he was nine. Membrane could see it so clearly, now – the white lab coat an extra small reject from his official line of merchandise, the edges pooling around his feet, spattered with thick corn syrup blood. He let him carry a real life surgical scalpel around to make the costume more realistic, and Dib, ever the responsible and intelligent child, only seriously maimed two children during the night.

He could almost smile at the thought.

On this particular day, Dib didn’t have any stories to share.

He was curt and mechanical in his movements. He moved with a slow precision that reminded Membrane of a predator, winding up for the kill. Even behind the bars of the cell he was sure to watch the boy closely. It felt like he was hiding something.

All he seemed to be trying to do that day was scan Membrane’s body for a hologram he was going to encode into his device. It wasn’t strenuous work; all he asked of Membrane was to stand up, spread out his arms, and turn around.

It wasn’t until perhaps ten minutes of this that Dib spoke again.

Except that when he spoke, his voice was small. _He_ was small – no spider legs propping him up, no cocky ramrod-straight stance. When Membrane turned around he saw Dib hunched over, looking around with a nervous energy that set the man on edge.

“D…Dad?”

What.

“_Dad?” _

It felt like a bomb had exploded in the scientist’s heart. He snapped out of his stupor and ran towards the bars of the cell – too fast, his momentum carrying him forward until his head met the dense metal in front.

“Dad? Oh my god. Dad, _where am I?” _

After the buzzing in his head quieted, Membrane grabbed hard onto the bars of his cell, shoulders shaking with the force of trying to move them, mind racing in his state of feverish parental instinct to the point where he almost believed he could bend the metal with pure willpower.

“Son? _Son_?!” His voice was hoarse. He didn’t speak much these days.

Dib stumbled to the other side of the bars, shaking, holding a hand to his head.

“Dad! Dad, you have to get me out of here. I – I have to get _you_ out of here! Where are we? What’s going on?” His voice became quicker as he spoke, the words blending together into a panicked frenzy that was all too familiar to the man. His heart ached with a depth he felt impossible.

“Son – _Dib_, I’m so sorry…I’m going to get you out of here son, we’re going to get out of here, okay? Look at me, Dib. Look at me, little moth.”

The hand on Dib’s head moved to his goggles. “Dad…”

Membrane knew at this moment that he could look his son in the eyes, whatever they looked like beneath the glass. He couldn’t be disgusted by him. Couldn't be disgusted by his own flesh and blood. 

“Why is this happening? Why? Why?”

Tears sprang into Membrane’s eyes. “I- I don’t _know_, son, I don’t-”

“Why? Why…why are you so _gullible_?” The last word upturned into a shrill cackle. Dib threw his head back in sick glee, spider legs springing him back so that he was now halfway across the room. “Professor, I expected better of you. I really did! I thought you were, I dunno, _smarter _than all of them.”

Membrane sunk to his knees. The aching pressure in his heart popped like a stepped on balloon.

“Don’t look at me like _that_, Professor, it’s pathetic.” Dib shrugged his shoulders. “Shame on me for expecting anything better from a _fffffilthy _human lab-creature.”

He turned fast on his heel and walked briskly out of the holding room. Membrane fell backwards from his seated position, head banging hard against the cold ground as his body spread out, limp. The tears flowed fast now. It was so cruel. So, so fucking cruel.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face!” he called over his shoulder, before disappearing up the stairs.

That is when Membrane knew that this monster was not his son.

Dib, _his _Dib, could be selfish, and unsympathetic, and oblivious to others around him. He could be loud and annoying. He could be rude.

He’d never, not once in the thirteen years Membrane was given to raise him, and not even once in the years that followed, hurt him like this.

***

It was a one-off thing. Thinking back to the memory, Membrane questions whether or not it even happened at all, sometimes.

He was laying on his back in the cell, side pressed up against a wall, trying to get some sleep when Dib came into the room. It wasn’t always that Dib entered his area to talk to him; there was all kinds of equipment down here, scopes and lasers and machinery that would have been absolutely fascinating if it weren’t for the unfathomably awful circumstances. Even if Membrane wanted to satiate his scientific curiosity, the sight of the irken boy soured the feeling.

Dib didn’t acknowledge him as he walked past the cell. He disappeared around a corner Membrane couldn’t quite see, and for a while, the man continued to keep his eyes shut and his mind clear, hoping to catch a moment of much-needed rest.

That’s when the first few shaky notes creeped into the air. Membrane sat up. Something stirred in the back of his mind. He could hear Dib clearing his throat before resuming, keeping up the tune he’d started. Membrane scooted closer to the edge of the cell bars, straining to see if he could get a look at his son.

Sure enough, he could _just _see Dib sitting behind some kind of desk, typing furiously on the pink device. Over his tunic he wore a white apron of some kind, stained with green and yellow. Membrane had no clue what rooms lied in the upstairs of the ship. His mind flashed to shock horror images of scalpels and sterile florescent lighting, grainy VHS footage of the Roswell autopsy.

Dib continued to whistle, seemingly unaware of his observer. He was fully engrossed in his work, goggles reflecting the foreign outlines of an alien language.

Membrane closed his eyes and listened. He’d heard it from _somewhere_, or so he thought. Something, at some time, back on Earth. Back before. Before-

_…been working on a unified theory, if I make it through tonight everybody’s gonna hear me out_-

Membrane blinked. So it _was _an Earth song. Maybe it was from the radio? Or from-

_‘cause I’m the right one, on my touch-tone, touch-tone telephone…_

Membrane felt the tears falling before he’d even fully realized the connection. As he lifted a hand to his face to wipe them away he scooted backwards, away from the source of the sound, bringing his knees to his chest. Childlike in his horror, and all too adult in his despair. He remembered – how could he have ever forgotten? Dib had to have blasted that song on repeat for months straight. Every night Membrane could hear the echoes of it from his lab, the sound of happy footsteps from his son running through his room as he worked on a project bringing a smile to the professor’s face.

He could hear Dib get up, in the present. He blinked, turning his gaze to the floor. He couldn’t deal with it if Dib tried to talk to him right now – perhaps that was the point. Perhaps the irken, thriving off the reaction he’d summoned from his father at his nasty trick a few weeks prior, was trying to see if he could make the man crack.

He wouldn’t.

Membrane hardened his face into a stoic line of impartiality. He leaned his head against his knees, pretending to have fallen asleep.

He closed his eyes, hearing Dib’s footsteps float by his cell. The song continued. He said nothing as he approached the stairs.

_‘cause you’re the only person in the world who’d understand...because you’re the only person in the world who’d understand the meaning of this…_

Membrane choked back a sob as the rest of the song faded into the distance, before it was abruptly cut off by the sliding of an automatic door.


	2. Despair

Another day of dull restlessness. Membrane woke up slouched in an awkward position against the east wall, an ache in his back erupting into focus as soon as he came to. The past few days had represented nothing but a constant state of both perpetual boredom and the background radiation of aches and pains. His age was more apparent now. There wasn’t much space to walk around in. With a painful stretch Membrane pondered if his son intended on keeping him here for so long all his muscles atrophied and he became too weak to fight back. Maybe that’s when he’d finally kill him. Like an endurance predator stalking a sick deer.

The thought made him sick.

A sudden _swoosh _followed by the sound of black boots making their way down the out of view staircase brought Membrane’s attention back to his surroundings, if only for a moment. At this point Dib’s appearances were just another expected part of any day. There was no novelty anymore, not even any fear. With all this isolation part of the man was desperate to talk to someone, to speak. Recently Dib had decided to start simply sending the food delivery drone down into the holding chamber by itself, depriving Membrane of the last consistent human connection he had to look forward to.

_Human connection_. Heh.

Despite everything, despite this boy’s putrid green skin and mouth full of serrated pink teeth, Membrane still couldn’t help but see him as his son. You can’t just forget. Even if Dib didn’t sound much like _his _Dib anymore, there was enough there to make his heart ache every time he saw his face.

“Professor. _Professor_. C’mon.” A pair of snapping fingers (were they fingers? It was impossible to tell with those long black gloves) in front of Membrane’s cell bars pulled him out of his thoughts, but still the man did not do much other than slowly raise his head to meet Dib’s cold goggled gaze. “Did you finally go brain-dead or something?”

All Membrane did was stare.

“So…” Dib leaned against the cell bars, face pressing against the cold metal in an unsettlingly unfettered way. His goggles clinked against them. “How’re you holding up? Gone insane from the isolation yet? Ready to claw your own eyes out? If you are, let me know so I can film it.”

When Membrane didn’t respond, Dib leaned back on his heels, shaking his head. “So rude to your host. I’ve given you shelter and food every day of your miserable life ever since the reckoning. Most on your dirt-ball home planet can’t say the same.” He smiled a cold and sharp smile. “You’re lucky I thought you were worth keeping.”

Membrane thought for a moment, pursed his lips, and then spoke.

“Why?”

Dib quirked his head to the side. The man’s voice was shaky and quiet from under use. “Huh?”

“Why…did you think I was worth keeping?”

Dib crossed his arms. “You’re a _genius, _Professor. Before your time. None of those idiots on Earth were ready to comprehend what you had to offer.” He grinned, looking down at the slumped figure in the cell. “Lucky for you, _I _am. I can just imagine all the secrets I can pry from your brain. All the knowledge I can reach in and extract.” He took a step back and began to pace, moving his arms so that they were behind him clasping at his own hands. “Your efforts on Earth were admirable, but sadly all of that’s gone to waste. You couldn’t stop me.”

Membrane couldn’t help it; the words stung like flames licking at his heart and tears welled up in his dry, glazed-over eyes. And Dib, the bastard, probably gifted with some awful alien eyesight under those goggles, or maybe noticing _because _of them, tutted dismissively with that unsettling wormlike tongue.

“Don’t waste your fluids. It’s hard enough keeping you hydrated up here with that disgusting Earth-acid. It’s a _finite resource_, Professor, it’s not like I can exactly _go back to Earth _and get some more.” He chuckled. It was a mean sound. “Regardless. Your brain will prove infinitely useful. You’ll have a new purpose in death. You’ll finally be there for your son!”

Membrane stood up, too fast – his towering form quickly crumpling and falling back to slam hard against the cold floor. “Shut the _fuck _up about my son.”

Dib seemed to ponder him for a moment. His antennae moved idly as though he were deep in thought. It churned Membrane’s stomach.

Then, Dib turned around and left. Membrane heard him start back up the stairs. He scooted himself back against the wall again, bitter at the tears that continued to float out of him, and closed his eyes. His heavy body soon faded into a dreamless sleep.

***

Muffled shouts from above and the sound of frantic footsteps pounding against the roof roused Membrane awake. He sat up slowly, then made his away across the cell, shuffling on his knees to prevent himself the strain of getting up. He attempted to crane his head around the corner, towards the stairs, but the cell’s position completely prevented him from doing so.

Not like it mattered, anyway, because the characteristic _whoosh-thumpthumpthump_ denoting his son’s footfalls down the stairs into the holding cell told him enough. One last _thump_ followed by a shout and a crash were, he figured, Dib slipping in his panic and falling down the stairs. A twinge of worry stabbed at his gut.

He pursed his lips. Considered for a moment.

“…Son?”

The shuffling noises from around the corner stopped. “D...Dad?”

Fuck.

Membrane’s lips were already curled into a scowl of disgust as he watched Dib stumble into view. “Don’t do this again, Dib,” he warned sternly. “It’s cruel even for you.”

Dib shook his head. “I- I really don’t know w-what’s happening, Dad!” He threw his hands into the air. “What the hell is this? What- what _happened_? What happened to me? Where are we?” He looked directly at Membrane. Even with the placid blue goggles the man could so clearly remember the look in his son’s eyes, what they were like before, big brown doe-eyes staring at him from behind dirty glasses. “Dad?”

Membrane started shaking. “No. No. Dib. _Fuck_.”

Dib ran a hand through his hair – or tried, before his gloved hands met sensitive antennae with a jolt. “Dad…I feel sick.”

“Dib, please…” Membrane’s voice shook almost too hard to make out his words. “Fucking _stop it_. I’m not doing this again. I’m not.”

Dib let out a shuddering breath before looking at the wall near the cell door. He approached it, making Membrane tense up – until after a few random button pushes the bars to the cell suddenly retracted up into the ceiling.

He…was free.

Dib…_freed _him.

Membrane looked up at his son. The sound of his heart pounding in his ears was the only noise for one second, five seconds.

He stood. Stumbled over to his son, who looked so small now. So scared.

When Membrane wrapped his big arms around the boy he realized he was trembling.

“I’m so sorry, Dad…” Dib mumbled against his father’s coat, face pressed against his shoulder. “I’m…”

Membrane shushed him. Reached a tentative hand, muscle memory going back to those days where he’d ruffle his son’s hair…fuck it. He pet Dib’s hairless scalp, careful to avoid the antennae. The skin was strange and hard, almost like a carapace. Dib pulled him closer, his own arms wrapping around Membrane.

“Let’s get this stupid thing off.” One of Membrane’s hands came around to unclasp Dib’s cape, sending it fluttering unceremoniously to the ground.

They stood there for a while before Membrane spoke again.

“We’re…we’re going to figure this out, Dib. I’m so glad it’s really you.” He choked back tears. He knew water was bad for this body. “Little moth. I missed you so much…”

“Dad…” Dib’s arms held hard onto Membrane. And for a moment the boy opened his mouth again like he were about to say something else, but snapped it shut again with the audible sound of teeth clanking together.

“We’re gonna do it together. You and me, son. We’re going to work together and we’re going to _fix you_. I promise. I p-promise you, Dib…”

Dib was silent. Membrane opened his eyes again and blinked out the tears. “Dib? Are you-”

A cold metal point stared him in the face, connected to a long metal spider leg extending outwards from the device on Dib’s back. Three more of the legs slowly crept out, all pointing at Membrane’s bowed head.

Membrane tried to push Dib back, to get away from this fucking monster – to little avail, as the spider legs launched forward with the inhuman speed of a striking viper. Membrane closed his eyes again and tensed, only to feel the points connect with his shoulders and hips and push violently forward. Membrane was knocked backward, back onto the hard floor of the cell. Before he could even sit up and get his bearings straight the cell bars had already come crashing down.

Dib stared at him, now once again propped up on the spider legs. The stoic blue glass of his goggles betrayed no remorse. His mouth quirked into a smile. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” There was a strange softness to his voice. “That’s my dad. So smart that you’re an idiot in every other aspect of your life that _doesn’t _revolve around science.” He sounded almost fond.

The legs carried him to the other side of the room. He lingered for a moment, then was gone, back up those stairs, back up into this new reality.

Membrane didn’t do anything for a while. He wanted to do a million things. Punch himself for falling for it again. Scream. Bash his brains out against the wall – ruin that precious organ his captor is apparently keeping him for.

All he could do is fall onto his bruising side, curl into a ball, and wail.

***

“Delivery!” Dib chirped, walking through the automatic door at the top of the stairs. Membrane had gone back to his quiet and nonresponsive state. For the past few days he had refused to eat anything at all. In the corner of his cell sat a stack of trays, glued together with crusted nutrient paste.

When Dib stops in front of the cell with what appeared to be a USB drive in one hand and that pink device in the other, Membrane doesn’t even give him a nod of recognition. He was getting too weak to do so anyway. Dib would fix that. If his subject continued to be uncooperative, he’d simply install a feeding tube into him – oh, that would be so much fun.

“I’ve got a present for you, Professor.” Dib made a show of waving the USB in the air, grinning. “I know you’re still a bit out-of-the-loop as to how we got here, and I thought today we could have a little movie night. Just like old times, huh?” He paused for a moment, scanning the man’s face for any sign of hurt. When all he got was that slack-jawed stare he continued. “I think you’ll enjoy this. It’s archived footage from back on Earth! Home movies, you could call them.” He plugged the USB into the pink device and tapped on the holographic screen that popped up as a result. A few moments later a projection appeared on the wall of Membrane’s cell opposite to the bars.

It was-

Membrane quickly averted his eyes.

A _click!_ from the device, and the video began.

_“Uh- hey! You…alien scum. Aha. Wow, I can’t believe this worked…!” _

_Dib grinned at the screen. Dib, thirteen, human, a look of glee shining in his eyes. “I…just wanted to say hello to you. I know Zim talks about you guys a lot – I mean, uh, not so much now, but he used to when…when he was trying to be an invader. And I…I was wondering.” Dib shook his head, nervous. “I think. I think I could be a pretty decent invader.” _

“I’ve only got my side of the recordings, sadly,” Dib said in the present. Membrane covered his ears and yet the sound of his son, his _real _son’s voice got through, echoing in his head. “But for context: I was talking to none other than the Almighty Tallests!” The pride in his voice faltered for a moment. “Right. You don’t know who they are. Just like an ignorant human. They’re known throughout the _universe_. They’re the leaders of the Irken empire. They’re _great_. They gave me this ship!”

The video ended like that. It quickly switched to the next recording. In the back of his mind it occurred to Membrane that Dib had to have extracted these recordings when he was still on Earth, before the reckoning. He took them for a reason. And now, this purposefully edited video…how long had Dib been thinking about torturing him like this?

_“Hi! Me again!” Dib had ditched his trench coat and sat in front of the screen wearing a dark blue shirt. “I know you hung up on me last time and I totally get it, you guys are busy and you probably don’t have time to listen to some random hu-…random person from some nowhere dirt-planet. But I have a lot to offer if you listen!” He smiled, then reached for something offscreen. There was a sound like ruffling papers. He pulled a sheet of notebook paper and brought it up in front of the screen. It depicted a rough sketch of something, an outfit – what looked like a modified version of Zim’s uniform, but dark blue, and with a dramatic billowing cape. Dib wasn’t the most advanced artist in the world, but his sketch conveyed the idea well enough. “I even have a uniform in mind!” He was grinning like a dork. He looked the happiest he’s ever been – certainly the happiest his dad ever saw him. There was a pause like he was listening for something; Membrane figured these “Tallests” were speaking on the other end. “Wait – you will? You will?!” Dib looked like he was about to explode from excitement. He started to rock in place. “I won’t let you down!” _

Membrane’s nails dug into the skin of his arms as his whole body tensed in stress. There was no use trying to look away now. Even though he wasn’t looking at the boy he could feel Dib staring at him from in front of the bars.

_“Hey! I uh- I got the thing you sent me, that laser thing? SO cool. I’m honored.” Another pause. Dib’s smile only grew wider and wider. “You…you really think so? Oh, man, wait until you hear some of my ideas. I’ve got a book…” He went offscreen for a moment and returned with a beaten-up composition book. “I literally spend all class doing this. I have so many ideas. Zim is clueless, isn’t he? Completely incompetent?” He laughed, a sound that began as his normal boyish chortle and ended as something a little more sinister. “I know. I’ve been saying that! But, yeah, uh, I think I could do his job over three times in the time he’s been here. Totally inefficient. I’ve got this like, idea with portals and stuff? My dad has a bunch of stuff in his lab. I drew a picture…” _

It went on for a little bit after that. Dib spent a solid twenty minutes in total explaining his ideas for world domination – “just little thought experiments,” according to him, rationalizing it. Every once in a while the current Dib standing a few feet away would laugh and make some remark equivalent to “good times, good times!” or “yeah, that was so great.” Every time he spoke over his younger self’s voice Membrane felt his blood boil.

And on it went. The same structure, essentially.

A greeting.

_(“Hey guys!”)_

_(“Greetings, My Tallests!”)_

_(“What’s up, Uncle Purple? Uncle Red?”) _

An introduction.

_(“It’s me, Dib!”)_

_(“Dib here again!”)_

_(“Invader Dib, reporting for duty!”) _

Some sort of thanks.

_(“Thank you so much for that Megadoomer-”_

_(“-for that bone crusher-”)_

_(“for that SIR unit-”) _

A brief recap. Some jokes. A promise to keep doing better. Always Dib would beam at the unheard comments coming from the other end of the screen. Always Dib would tune in looking a little different – that sketched outfit blossoming into reality, a tattered and less sophisticated version of the one he wore now, but still retaining that damn modified trench coat cape – but soon the changes were much more physical. Dib’s skin began to fade into a sickly green; at first Membrane wondered if it were his laptop’s camera that was causing the discoloration, or the projection, perhaps – but when he was presented with the absurd and disturbing image of his son’s characteristic hair spike beginning to subtly shift into the shape of two bent antennae, he realized the truth.

This wasn’t overnight. It was slow. And obvious.

And yet…

“Stop it.”

Dib let out a “Huh?” that was so incredulous that Membrane thought it might actually be genuine.

“I said stop. Turn it off.”

As the young Dib rambled on about some escapade with his SIR unit that apparently entailed _“squirrels and so much blood” _Membrane spun around to face Dib—

Only to be staring him right in the face.

His son, thirteen. Standing in the middle of this horrid spaceship. Membrane could feel the rage coursing through his blood.

“Stop?” asked Dib, marching forward to wrap decidedly human fingers around the bars. “You want me to stop? You want me to stop playing the proof of what _you_ missed for _months_?” Dib sounded just as angry as he did. It wasn’t just unsettling coming from his young human form. It was excruciating.

His son. His little boy he hadn’t seen like this in what felt like a lifetime ago. Frozen in time from the moment before this all began in the first place. But although it _looked _like his Dib, there was no way in hell his son would ever say these things to him.

At least, Membrane hoped so.

“You want me to stop…when you let me get this way?” Dib continued, both hands now clenching the bars. From Membrane’s perspective it almost looked as if Dib were the one imprisoned. The tears staining his cheeks were an interesting touch to this evil ruse, and idly Membrane wondered if they were some sort of disguised liquid or all part of whatever suit or hologram the invader had employed.

“You were never there for me, Dad. I never got anything from you. I got _everything _from this. From them. And you…you, you decided to take that _disgusting excuse for a human boy _as your new child! You abandoned your own son! You let him get bad even though you _know _deep down I was crying out for help. What a miserable excuse for a father. I-” Dib sniffled. Membrane’s heart ached and burned with grief. It was like losing him all over again. “Well, you got what you wanted. I’m doing real science now. And you’re going to be my next project.”

With a groan like a roar Membrane sprung to his feet, all pain and tension and weakness leaving him for a surreal five seconds as he bounded towards the cell bars and reached a hand through to grab Dib by the front of his shirt.

“_Listen here you fucking punk,” _he hissed through gritted teeth. “I don’t know who the hell you are but you are _not_ my son. My son wanted to save the world. He wanted to do good things. He was a good kid. And you- you’re nothing more than a teenage maniac who wants to play God.”

Dib grinned even as his small body dangled from his father’s fist. “Your son is dead and I killed him.”

Before Membrane could even think his other hand balled up into a fist that collided squarely against the boy’s twisted smile. He watched in frozen shock as Dib fell backwards and slid along the smooth ship floor until he collided with the opposite wall. A few seconds later the disguise glitched – the holographic projection of his former self giving way to the crumpled form of the invader who slowly raised up his head, propping himself up on his arms. One of the lenses in his goggles had cracked and broken, and finally Membrane saw what lied beneath:

Nothing but smooth, empty blue.

Slowly, Dib raised a hand to his face. Magenta smudges streaked across his cheek where the skin had broken. He looked right at his father. Those buggy alien eyes showing a glimmer of vulnerability.

“...that hurt.”

His voice was barely a whisper.

***

Dib doesn’t come around for a while. If Membrane were to estimate the exact time, he’d say at least a week. It was impossible to check.

When he finally does come back it’s…different. Guarded. He’s not wearing his goggles, and in his hands he carried a large box with some kind of insignia emblazoned on one side. Membrane wondered if the goggles had been permanently damaged by his hit – his knuckles were still bruised and cut up from the impact. He didn’t realize he was aiming for them with that damn hologram.

Wordlessly, he walked to the cell and pushed the button to open it. When Membrane didn’t move he shook his head and raised his empty hands. “No trick. You’re hurt.”

Membrane squinted his eyes.

“_Think_, Professor. I don’t want you expiring before your time. Look-” He opened the top of the box and took out a mundane roll of bandages. “Just normal stuff.”

Membrane pulled himself to his feet and exited the cell. Even if it was a trick, he didn’t really care anymore. He had nothing left to lose.

A half-hour later of having Dib sit beside his father to silently examine his wounds, disinfect them, and wrap them up, Membrane finally eased into the idea that it might not be another trick. Dib – or this version of him, at least – was strange like that. Even with the cruelty he never once felt like his _enemy_, and that couldn’t just be chalked up to the fact he was once his son. There was something else there, a restraint, a propensity for humor and wit and camaraderie. It was eerie. You could never let your guard down around him, because you never knew how he was going to treat you that day: like a friend, or like a specimen.

Finally, Dib cleared his throat. Membrane took in an anticipatory breath as he turned to face him.

“What was I like?” he sputtered out, before shaking his head dismissively. “Don’t…bother answering. It’s a stupid question.”

“Well it certainly is a stupid question,” Membrane snapped. “We just saw what you were like not too long ago.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean…from your perspective. Because I thought- I always-” he trailed off. “…I just want to know how you saw me. For real.”

Membrane sighed. He thought for a moment, leaning against the outside wall of his open cell, idly fidgeting with the bandage wrapped around his hand.

“Little moth…if this is another way for you to hurt me, you’ve already succeeded.” And for the first time in years Membrane smiled in earnest. “You were great. You were the best son a father could ever want. You were…brilliant. Always so precocious. I couldn’t get you to stop reading as soon as you learned how. You were talented. So much more advanced than other boys your age. I was always so _proud _of you, son. I always was. I just wanted what was best for you. I didn’t want you to waste your talents. And I didn’t…want to see you go. I imagined a future where we could work in the lab together, a father and son team working to change the world for the better. That’s what I wanted, and I thought that’s what you wanted, too. I’m. I’m sorry, Dib. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.” Membrane looked up, looked at his son as he was now, looked at the green alien in the black boots and blue uniform, looked at the expressionless blue eyes. “I’m so sorry, my son.”

When Dib stands back up it’s so abrupt that he topples over the medicine box. He looked down at Membrane and opened his mouth, a million emotions crossing his face. He sputtered and attempted a few sentences that died on the first word. He closed his mouth and shook his head furiously.

“I put a powerful but slow-working tranquilizer in the anesthetic,” he finally said plainly. Membrane swore under his breath and tried to unwrap the bandages, but as soon as he pulled himself out of his thoughts and became aware of his body he realized how heavy and useless his limbs had become.

He’s fading fast, now. The room is spinning around him.

Dib walks in front of Membrane and kneels. His face is the last thing he sees – the last thing he hears is up for debate, as he could’ve imagined it in his panicked and betrayed state of mind as the world faded to black. Four words that could’ve been nothing but a product of a heartbroken dad’s imagination.

_“I love you, Dad.” _

He hits the floor before he can ask if he heard right.

***

The professor wakes up on his back, arms outstretched. His back aches, and his head pounds where he fell as he lost consciousness. The lights overhead are bright and clinical. It takes a few moments to adjust to them and look somewhere else. There’s a sign on the wall opposite to him, but as he moves to sit up and get a closer look he’s met with resistance.

Membrane looked down to see his arms and legs held down by restraints. His back was pressed against a cold metal table.

Panic set his heart into overdrive, arms spasming to no avail against the binds. He was too weak to break free even if it were possible, he realized. Not eating or sleeping or standing had taken its toll. Punching Dib was the most physical activity he’d had since his capture.

Another light flickered on at the other side of the room. The sign was in alien writing, anyway, a script wholly unrecognizable.

With a resigned sort of sigh Membrane looked to his left and right. To the right there was nothing but another door, likely the same kind Dib came through every time he visited him in the holding chamber. To the left there was another small metal table, and atop it sat a tray littered with medical instruments: a scalpel, a pair of pliers, scissors, and an array of other alien devices whose purpose Membrane could only guess at.

The panic intensified. But still, Membrane kept himself calm.

Dib was trying to psych him out, is all.

It was another trick. He knew what he heard. He saw that look in his eyes.

“Dib?” he called out. “I know what you’re doing young man, and it isn’t very funny.”

Dib would come for him in no time.

He would undo the restraints, laugh like an asshole, and lead him back to his cell for another day.

Membrane looked up near the lights and noticed the dark panels lined up all around the ceiling. Upon closer inspection he realized it was an array of one-way mirrors. The room was circular, and with those panels it almost seemed like a planetarium or an observatory or-

Or an execution chamber.

…

No.

It was all a part of the trick.

“Dib? Where are you? I know you can see me. You’ve had your fun.”

Dib would come back for him soon.

“Dib?”

Maybe he was coming around.

“Answer me when I’m speaking to you!”

Maybe there was a part of him that wanted to be…

“I am still your father!”

…like a family again.

“…little moth?”

The door swung open.


End file.
